


Death's Parting

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck, dersites
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-27
Updated: 2012-09-27
Packaged: 2017-11-15 04:02:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/522925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Dignitary finds that death brings unwanted loneliness, temporarily fixed only by a final visit from a dear friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Death's Parting

Your title is the Draconian Dignitary, and right now you are dead. You have been dead for who knows how long, because you have already lost track of the minutes, the hours, the days. You haven't moved much, there is no need to breathe, for you are simply dead.  
But suddenly, there's a noise that disturbs the silence of your quiet sanctuary. You cannot quite place what it is, and you struggle to remember what noises exactly are described by.

 

You would say it's a sort of krsh kind of noise, like something dragging across the ground, and for the first time in the time you haven't been counting, you stand up. It's hard for you to feel the rustle of your uniform's fabric on your shell, it's like a distant touch, like a lover's touch. You are glad you are too dead to care about the ache in your chest, it's hollow and fleeting and it's hard to remember what made it start in the first place.

An old instinct, to raise your hand and shield your eyes—as if that will help you peer into the darkness beyond you—seizes hold of you, but you don't humor it. You stand there, motionless as the sound grows louder. Krsh, krsh. It's only when you see a figure approaching you do you realize it's the sound of wings, blood-clotted and scraggly, dragging on the ground.

It's Bec—no, Jack. You will never call him Bec, even if he drilled the name into you, it wouldn't pierce the shield you had created around that name. That name is one of the last shards of memories of the old days. But when you see him walking, when you see those ears twitching on his head and those wicked white eyes boring into yours, you just stare back. Perhaps if you weren't dead, you would feel fear. But there isn't a lot more he can do to hurt you.

At least, that's what you think, before his arm is around you, the claws digging into your uniform in a weak hold—you blink. Is this an illusion? You aren't so sure, although your senses have dulled, you can vaguely feel the warm blood mottling on the ragged remnants of the Queen's outfit for him—you can feel the chips in his shell, the light press of the ring against your back. And although it's very far away, like a wind on a hill opposite of where you're standing, his breath is warm on your chest. You are very well-versed of what the smell of death and decay is like, and he most certainly reeks of it. Very slowly, you wrap thin arms around his back, finding your claws kneading into the soft fur beneath his wings.

You're not sure how long you stand there, the silence weighing heavy in the air, pushing on the hollowness of your shell. Of course you're not going to speak, and you wait for a few words from him—just a few. But they never come. He finally pulls away, blood-stained claws leaving a few speckles on your shell. You don't feel like moving to rid your tunic of them. Normally you would, but you feel like now is not the time.  
He looks up at you, his one eye in a slit as the white scar runs over it, before leaning over—there's a cold spot on your cheek, the canine nose rubbing over the shell, before a lick. It's animal-like, but comforting, and you can see the brief glimpse of emotions in his eyes—remorse.

And then, before you can react, he spreads those wings of his, and with green sparking and crackling all around his body, he's suddenly gone.  
And you are left alone, with only a streak of blood and a soft, wet spot on your cheek in his remembrance.


End file.
